


blue and red

by kylaer



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Crack, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mingi needs a hug, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Song Mingi-centric, Soulmates, good parenting, lapslock, we all need a yunho in our lives, yunho is a pure boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylaer/pseuds/kylaer
Summary: polybond's are abnormal, mingi's told. you'll never be happy, he's told.sometimes blue and red don't equal purple, he tells himself.and that's okay, he tells himself, because they're happy, he tells himself -- happy without you.and he believes it.until he doesn't.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, Park Seonghwa/Song Mingi
Comments: 40
Kudos: 156





	1. ... does not equal purple

mingi was four when the words first started appearing on his arms. it began with a tingle -- like when his uncles and older cousins would jab their fingers into his sides until he was giggling uncontrollably -- but lighter, more feathery. and then the thin blue pen appeared on the inside of his left arm, leaving his skin feeling pleasantly bubbly and numb. the blue pen formed letters and words mingi’s still-developing brain had yet to understand. 

the red pen appeared moments later, covering his right arm in tiny, messy flowers. each had exactly five petals and was equally as sloppy as the last, but there was a certain quirky charm to them. 

mingi was terrified. 

throwing his toy trains to the ground, mingi was on his feet and rushing to the living room within seconds. his father was on the couch, folding laundry as an old blues vinyl spun on the record player in the corner of the room. the air smelled overpoweringly like gingerbread. 

“appa!” mingi cried, jumping over piles of carefully-folded clothes until he could climb up on the couch and into his father’s lap. he presented his arms, forearm up. more words and pretty flowers had appeared on mingi’s skin during his trek through the living room, wrapping around to his elbows and up past the long sleeves of his oversized t-shirt.

his father’s hands were smooth and gentle as they wrapped around mingi’s thin wrists. his thumbs soothed across the writing and flowers, mingi growing antsier as a frown pulled at his father’s mouth. 

“what is it, appa?” he asked, shuddering as that bubbly feeling fizzled more intensely, before completely disappearing -- as well as everything covering his skin. his arms were a blank canvas once more, but only for a few short moments until the process started all over again. 

a hand cupped the back of mingi’s head, ruffling his overgrown hair. “it’s nothing you need to worry about, min-min.” his father finally responded, a gentle smile in place of his frown. “it’ll go away again soon.” 

“but wha’is it?” mingi pushed. he was all-too curious about the tingling and the writing and the pretty flowers. 

mingi’s father simply shook his head and repeated; “nothing you need to worry about.” he then tucked a hand beneath each of mingi’s arms, carefully lifting the small boy off his lap. mingi kept his legs tucked beneath him as he father leaned over and set him down on the floor beside the laundry basket. “now, do you want to be a big boy and help appa fold the laundry?”

and suddenly all thoughts of the weird markings on his arms disappeared from mingi’s head. his face lit up with a wide grin, eager to help his father and prove he wasn’t a “little kid”. he grabbed at the air excitedly, a high-pitched “yeah!” leaving his lips. 

mingi’s father reached into the basket and pulled out a pair of mingi’s shorts, tossing them into mingi’s awaiting arms. “do you remember how to fold them, min-min?” 

and though mingi didn’t really, he didn’t want to admit he needed help, and so he nodded his head “yes.” he waited until his appa pulled out a pair of larger shorts, then copied the motions best he could as he made creases and folds. this went on for a bit, mingi copying his father and making his own messy pile of clothes beside him. 

by the time his pile of poorly-folded clothes was about half of his kneeling height, that intense bubbly feeling came back. a shudder ran up his spine as he watched all the words fade away. this time, the red pen was the first to come back, a trail of pretty flowers and vines wrapping around his wrist like a bracelet. “appa,” mingi prompted. “there’s a drawing now.” 

his father ignored him. or maybe he simply hadn’t heard, the music turned up too loud and mingi’s voice too quiet. but that couldn’t be -- mingi was always scolded by his teachers for being too loud. 

mingi crawled forward and tugged on his father’s pant leg. “appa!” 

his father simply handed him another of mingi’s shirts. then, when mingi hadn’t made a move to even attempt to fold it, he sighed and said; “don’t ever write on your skin, mingi.” 

mingi pouted again, confused. “why?”

“because you’ll get ink poisoning, min-min. your blood will turn different colors and you’ll get really sick. you don’t want that, do you?”

mingi quickly shook his head. he hated getting sick. the last time, he missed daycare for three whole days and felt absolutely _awful_ the whole time. he didn’t get to see yunho or play dinosaurs with him and didn’t get to hear the teacher read them a book with the funny voices she always used. 

his father patted his head once more. “then don’t draw or write on yourself, okay?”

“‘kay, appa.” 

and then a timer went off in the kitchen, loud and shrill and startling. mingi watched with wide eyes as his father pushed up off the couch, pushing the laundry basket to the side. he began making his way toward the kitchen, and suddenly the strong smell of gingerbread made sense. a gasp erupted from mingi’s throat; “did you make cookies?”

and, just like that, mingi’s arms were forgotten once more. 

  
  


mingi heeded his father’s warning diligently and obediently for about a year. he had no reason not to; if he wrote on his skin, he would get sick, and he really, _really_ didn’t want to get sick. 

but then kindergarten began, and he started learning how to read more. 

more importantly, he learned how to read the words on his skin. 

not all of them, of course. there were some he didn’t recognize, but there were still some words that he knew. he knew the greetings that always appeared first thing every day, and the farewells that came and went late at night. he knew some of the colors or the days of the week or even sometimes the name of the month that might appear. he knew “yes” and he knew “no” and he knew “please” and he knew “thank you.”

he didn’t know much, but he knew enough to realise that, somehow, the writing on both of his arms, the left in blue and the right in red, were “speaking” to each other -- having a conversation. 

mingi confided in yunho. 

“i think… my arms are _talking_ to each other.” he told the other boy.

yunho raised an eyebrow, looking rightfully concerned for mingi’s health. he mumbled through a mouthful of his sandwich; “what?”

mingi simply pushed up his sleeves and showed yunho the writing and the flowers that always came with it. “look, yunnie. they're having a conservation.”

“a conversation,” the smart kid on mingi’s left corrected. mingi glared at him, and the boy simply shrugged and returned his attention to the picture book in front of him, absentmindedly peeling the purple skin off of his grapes and leaving them green. 

yunho frowned, leaning across the table to get a better look at mingi’s arms. he scrutinized the words for a few long moments, watching as new ones kept appearing. then he sat back in his seat, mindlessly lifting half of his sandwich to his mouth. “huh.”

mingi scoffed, gnawing on the end of a carrot but not quite eating it. “yunnie, help me!”

yunho shrugged helplessly. “i dunno, min-min! I can’t read!” 

slumping back in his seat, mingi crossed his arms grumpily. “whatever.”

mingi didn’t think about his new revelation for a few days after that. it had simply slipped his mind, and he had more important things to worry about -- like that new swing set on the playground that everyone fought over, or the fact that mingi’s father hadn’t made a fresh batch of gingerbread cookies in over _three weeks_ and mingi had been craving them since he finished off the last batch.

he didn’t think about it until a week later, lying in his bed and bored out of his mind. he didn’t know exactly what time it was, but the moon high in the sky outside his window was enough to tell him he should probably be asleep. except sleep wasn’t coming easy (most likely due to the bottle of caffeinated soda he’d secretly drank before bedtime). 

then came the tingles. they’d become such a constant in his daily life that typically they were easy to ignore. 

but now, with nothing else to focus on, mingi pulled up the sleeves of his pajama shirt and watched as the words and flowers appeared across his skin. despite the light of the full moon, mingi couldn’t make out any of the words, and so he reached over to his nightstand to tap on his lamp. he squinted at the bright light and moved his gaze back down to his arms. 

this time, mingi recognized the words written in red. 

_can’t sleep_

he looked to his left arm, where a response was already visible. 

_i can’t either_

mingi thought it was funny -- he couldn’t sleep, and neither could the strange words on his arms. 

and then, for the first time, mingi thought of disobeying his father. 

a little bit of ink on his skin couldn’t hurt. 

mingi’s arms couldn’t sleep -- maybe they’d find it as funny as he did that he couldn’t drift off either. 

mingi didn’t think he’d mind being a little sick. he didn’t like his teacher this year, and yunho was on vacation anyway. 

he didn’t have to think about it very long, his mind quickly made up. he kicked the blankets off his legs and clambered off his bed, suddenly excited at the thought of conversing with his arms. he grabbed a thick blue marker from the basket on his desktop, quick to crawl back on his bed and hold his left arm beneath the light of his lamp. he had the marker uncapped, poised above an empty square of skin, ready to greet his arms. 

and then the door swung open, startling mingi. he dropped the marker onto his nightstand in his surprise, looking up at the open door with wide eyes. 

he met his father’s gaze, watching as his expression turned from something of concern to _anger_. 

he must have seen the light from beneath the doorway. otherwise he probably wouldn’t have come in to check on mingi. he wouldn’t look so _angry_. 

his father took a step into the room, his arms crossed over his chest. “mingi,” he began, voice so low and harsh that mingi barely recognized it as his father’s. “what do you think you’re doing?”

mingi didn’t respond immediately, still too stunned at being caught and the scary expression on his father’s face. but then he realized what he’d been caught doing, and let his head hang in shame. “i’m sorry, appa.”

“i thought i told you not to write on yourself.” mingi watched his father’s feet as he moved toward the bedside, grabbing the marker and its cap from mingi’s nightstand and snapping it closed. ”why would you disobey me?” 

mingi’s chest swelled and he felt a burning heat behind his eyes. “i- i’m sorry, appa! i didn’t mean to-!”

“you didn’t _mean to_ ?” his father repeated, incredulous. “mingi, this was obviously deliberate! you’re supposed to be asleep, and here i find that you’ve climbed out of bed, went to your desk to grab a marker, and nearly wrote on your skin -- which i specifically told you _not to do_!”

“i’m sorry!” mingi cried out. 

his father took a step back, sighing in disappointment. “you’re grounded -- no more playdates with yunho until next month.”

“appa, no!”

“and i’m taking your markers until you can prove yourself trustworthy again.” he moved toward the desk and grabbed the basket of markers, before heading toward the door. before leaving the room, he turned and looked at mingi pointedly. “if i ever catch you writing on your skin again, i’ll do more than take away playdates and markers.” 

  
  


it was third grade when mingi finally learned what the writing and flowers were. 

that morning, instead of starting with their usual lesson, the teacher regarded them all with a pleasant smile and gestured to a word written on the board. it was one he’d never seen before, the mix of characters abnormal. 

_soulmate_ , it read. 

mingi turned and met yunho’s eyes across the room. his best friend looked just as confused as he felt. 

the teacher explained that each of their parents were soulmates. that each person in the room had a perfect partner fated to be theirs, to love and cherish forever. she said that the greatest day of their lives would be the day they met their soulmate and that they would happily live the rest of their life with them. 

but that didn’t make sense to mingi. he’d never known his mother, and his father had never said a single word about her or “soulmates,” so how could this be true?

and then the teacher had mingi come up to the front of the class. had him roll up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. 

there was writing on each arm and those sloppy, pretty little flowers on his right. 

“i noticed your arms yesterday. those are from your soulmate, mingi.” she looked closer, and her pleasant smile seemed to drop a bit. “or, soul _mates_ , rather. looks like you have two, at the very least.” 

mingi looked up at her, oh-so confused. “what?” 

she had him pull his sleeves back down and then guided him back to his seat before she began explaining. “from the very first moment you meet your soulmate,” she began, addressing the whole class, “whatever your soulmate writes on their skin will appear on yours. it’s a way to communicate with each other, even from miles and miles away.” 

mingi pulled back his sleeves to look at his arms again. that tingling feeling was there again, on his right arm, as more flower petals looped together. he had soulmates? but why did he have two? and why had his father never told him about them? 

mingi gaped up at his teacher as she carefully reached down to pull his sleeves back down to his wrists. she avoided his gaze, her focus on the rest of the class. “it isn’t often that someone has more than one soulmate,” she told them. “those are called polybonds.” 

and finally, she looked into mingi’s glazed eyes, something of pity written across her expression. “polybonds don’t often work out. someone is always left behind.”

and suddenly mingi was ashamed. she’d said a soulmate was supposed to be a good thing, but only if you had one, and not multiple. embarrassment flooded mingi, heating his ears and flushing his face a bright red. he looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone. 

even yunho, who’d been his best friend since the first day of daycare all those years ago. 

at lunch, yunho made a point to join mingi at his desk and eat with him. they sat in silence for the first few minutes, mingi still reeling in his earlier embarrassment and yunho too absorbed in struggling to open up his yogurt to talk. but then yunho got the foil peeled off the top, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips, and he turned to mingi. 

“i think it’s cool.”

mingi blinked. he turned to yunho slowly, his confusion written across his features. “what?” 

“that you have two soulmates,” yunho explained. he dipped his spoon into his yogurt then shoved it into his mouth, choking a little before swallowing. “you get twice the love!”

mingi gaped at him, his own lunch forgotten momentarily. “but the teacher said--” 

yunho’s scowl cut mingi off. “i don’t care what she said.” yunho glared toward the front of the room, where the teacher was copying their next lesson onto the board. “i don’t like her.”

mingi’s mouth fell open. “but i thought you liked her--”

“not anymore!” yunho was defiant. “she embarrassed you in front of the whole class. that’s not what teachers are supposed to do. i don’t like her.”

mingi didn’t know what to say to that. his cheeks flushed in embarrassment once more, but this time it wasn’t from humiliation. more of shock at the loyalty from his best friend. 

before mingi could thank him, yunho pointed to his arms, a bit of an expectant smile on his lips. “have you talked to them?” 

mingi looked down at his arms, tempted to pull the sleeves up and look at the words and flowers. now that he knew they were from actual people and not just his arms trying to talk to him, there was something of fascination tugging at him. 

he shook his head in response to yunho’s question. 

“you should,” yunho told him.

“my dad says not to write on my arms. it could give me ink poisoning.” 

yunho raised a brow. “then how come your soulmates are writing on themselves?”

  
  


when mingi brought it up at dinner, making sure to add in yunho’s argument, mingi’s father stopped chewing mid-bite. his chopsticks fell from his limp fingers into his takeout dish. 

“mingi, there’s a reason i never told you about soulmates.” 

mingi looked up at him with a pout, playing with his own chopsticks and pushing around his food. he had yet to really take a worthwhile bite. “what?” 

his father sighed, shoulders tensing with the effort. “soulmates… aren’t all they're cracked up to be, min-min. your teacher probably told you they’re your perfect other half, right? that the universe shaped them just for you and that life would be forever happy when you met them?” 

mingi nodded. 

“well, they’re not, mingi. i… i haven’t been truly happy since i met mine.”

_odd_ , mingi thought. _he laughs a lot. he smiles a lot. doesn’t that mean he’s happy?_

“soulmates are more pain and heartbreak than anything, and ploybonds… they’re worse. they don’t end well, mingi. they never do.”

any part of mingi that had been reassured by yunho completely crumbled at those words. and if his father, who mingi looked up to and loved more than anything, told him that his polybond was hopeless, then it must be true. yunho just didn’t know any better yet. but he would learn. 

just as mingi had. 

then mingi’s father stood, rounding the table and crouching down beside mingi’s chair. he reached up and wiped away fallen tears with the smooth pads of his thumbs. then, when mingi turned and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, he picked the small boy up and sat down in the chair himself. 

“i never told you because i was trying to protect you,” he told mingi, soothing the palm of his hand up and down mingi’s back as it racked with sobs. “i was just trying to keep you safe from the truth as long as i could.”

then, he repeated once more; “never write on yourself, mingi.” 

he didn’t have to use the “ink poisoning” excuse anymore. 

  
  


that night, tucked into bed with his father’s words still fresh in his mind, mingi glared down at the words and flowers. 

his soulmates seemed to be happy. from the conversations he’d read and dismissed over the years, he could tell they got along well. his father said soulmates weren’t good. but his teacher said they were, and his own soulmates were _happy_. so maybe not all soulmates were bad. maybe some could be good. 

but polybonds were bad. his father _and_ his teacher said they were. yunho said they weren’t, but yunho didn’t know any better. 

_he would learn._

mingi decided that night that he wouldn’t ever write on himself. he’d never give his soulmates any clue that he was there. maybe if they weren’t aware they were in a polybond, they could be happy together. 

maybe some soulmates could be good. 

maybe, if mingi stayed away, they would be good. 

years later, mingi would come up with the saying “blue and red does not equal purple,” and he would laugh. he would laugh, because he didn’t know what else to do. and then he would cry, because he didn’t know what else to do. and crying was easy. 


	2. ... are environmentalists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of vomiting toward the end. literally the very last sentence.

the weeks following, trying to adjust, were the most difficult. 

mingi knew, in reality, that he had little to be upset about. in more technical terms, he was mourning the loss of a  _ concept _ . it was weird to miss something he’d never really had. he shouldn’t be missing something that had yet to happen -- he hadn’t met his soulmates yet, and the tingles and words and flowers were still consistent, so he hadn’t really  _ lost  _ them. there was nothing  _ to  _ miss. 

and yet he still cried for them. cried for the soulmates he never had. 

there was no one there to tell him it was okay to feel this way. no one told him his feelings were valid. no one told him that he had every right to mourn for something he was meant to have, but had been ripped from him before he ever had the chance to fully enjoy it. 

his father didn’t like talking about soulmates. he wasn’t often grumpy, and he rarely got upset with mingi. but whenever mingi brought the topic up, longing to learn more about why he felt the way he did or why soulmates were bad if they were supposed to be perfect for you or why mingi and yunho hadn’t known about soulmates until third grade but everyone else had already seemed to know about them -- his father always closed off. he answered, granted, but not in the way mingi wanted him to. not with answers full of substance like mingi had been hoping for.

and he always seemed _sad_. it seemed like the day’s weariness caught up to him as soon as the word “soulmate” left mingi’s mouth. as time went on, and mingi got older and more perceptive, he could see what his father meant when he said he was “rarely happy.” so he stopped asking. 

yunho, on the other hand, was still under the impression that all soulmates were inherently good, including mingi’s polybond. he didn’t understand why mingi wouldn’t try to contact his soulmates. he was always urging mingi to write on himself, to at least let them know mingi existed. so mingi didn’t bother trying to explain his feelings to yunho. it wasn’t worth the argument, or the trouble. 

then came the teasing. 

it began as simple whispers, paired with glances to let mingi know that  _ yes, they were talking about you.  _ but soon the kids in his class used nicknames like “multiple-mingi.” some kids, usually the more popular girls that thought other people’s misfortune was amusing, would come up to him and ask him what it was like to have more than one soulmate, masking their ill intentions with curiosity. when mingi failed to give them a “good enough” answer, they would sneer and roll their eyes. 

mingi never asked him to, but yunho stood up for him a lot. he called out the people he overheard whispering about mingi’s polybond and called anyone who used “multiple-mingi” some even worse insults. he told off the girls that approached mingi’s desk. he was practically mingi’s knight in shining armor. embarrassing, yes, but mingi was still grateful. 

then middle school came. mingi was no longer the hot topic in everyone’s gossip column, and barely anyone called him “multiple-mingi.” there were still some odd glances and whispers from the kids he’d gone to primary school with, but nothing he wasn't used to.

as they grew older, mingi and yunho’s conversations grew as well. they wondered why some soulmates weren’t happy. they wondered why yunho’s parents were so in love but mingi hadn’t ever known his mother and his father was always so upset. they wondered why the universe would pair you with someone that made you unhappy. 

and yet, yunho still bugged him about talking to his soulmates. “you’ll meet them eventually,” he would tell him. “why not just talk to them now?”

the last time mingi answered with “they’re happy without me,” yunho pinched the back of his hand so hard that he bled. after that, he began choosing safer, less self-deprecating answers. “because my dad said not to,” was usually his go-to response.

“he doesn’t have to know you’re talking to them,” yunho would point out.

sometimes mingi responded. sometimes yunho was ignored until he was forced to change the subject.

then, by the end of middle school, soulmates were no longer just a fantasy. they were a real,  _ physical  _ thing. seniors holding hands as they strolled down the school hallways, soulmate pairs smiling at each other and sharing secrets behind their smiles, and posting cute “couple” pictures on their social media, were all among the things middle schoolers --who were lucky enough to find their soulmate-- did (mingi --irrationally-- thought they all did it to spite him, yunho called him crazy and said “you’d understand their feelings if you talked to yours!”)

mingi’s hurt, which had quelled over the past few years, came back with a vengeance. it had been difficult before, knowing he had soulmates that were so accessible and not being able to speak to them. but now that he saw soulmates — happy soulmates — all over, it made that fact hit harder and deeper than it ever had before. 

and still, yunho persisted. 

on their last day of ninth grade, home and changed into more comfortable clothes, the pair sat on yunho’s bedroom floor, popsicles in their hands and trash abandoned on the bed. they weren’t supposed to have food in yunho’s room, so they were quick to eat the popsicles before his mother got home from work. 

“i really think you should talk to them.” 

it wasn’t really out of them blue — at least not as much as it could be. yunho had a habit of bringing up the topic at the most random of times. 

mingi could only sigh. he knew how the conversation would go; just as it always had. 

“yunho, you know i can’t—“

“i know, i know you can’t, min-min, but please, just a little mark, a  _ dot, something  _ to show them that you’re there!” he’d thrown his red-stained popsicle stick in the air and grabbed at mingi’s arm. there was new desperation in his tone, a new kind of hope in his eyes. 

mingi gaped at him, incredulous. yunho should have learned by now. he shouldn’t have been so hopeful. 

“why do you care so much?” he finally asked, eyes widening when he realized how close to tears his best friend was. “are you okay?”

then yunho let go, rubbing at his eyes just as a tear slipped free. “no!” he screamed. “i’m not! because you don’t know how lucky you are, mingi!” 

mingi reeled back away from him, hands that had once been outstretched for a hug now falling to his sides. “ _ lucky _ ?” he repeated. “if you call  _ this _ lucky, then i’d love to know what you think  _ unlucky _ is!” 

mingi was angry. why hadn't yunho learned? why was he still so hopeful?

he wasn’t so angry when he realized why yunho cared so much. 

yunho dropped his hands from his face, eyes sad and wet. his nose was starting to turn red, and he rubbed it when he said, again, “you’re lucky, min-min. 

“you’re lucky because you have two soulmates, and i have none.”

mingi’s whole body drooped. his mind went as slack as his arms, any and all feeling draining out of him. “what?”

yunho sniffled, carefully avoiding mingi’s gaze. “the day of the soulmate lesson, i -- i came home and asked my parents… why they never told me about soulmates. they said it was because i didn’t -- didn’t have one.” there was a hiccup, and yunho raised his left hand, wiggling his fourth finger. “i don't have the vein in my ring finger that leads directly to my heart like most people do. the doctor said it meant i was… i was soulmate-less.”

mingi didn’t know what to say. so he said nothing. he simply let yunho collapse into him. yunho didn’t cry, not like mingi expected him to. maybe he’d already come to terms with it, or maybe it didn’t really hurt him as much as mingi originally thought. 

before he went home that night, he asked yunho, “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

yunho bit his lip, shrugged, and grabbed mingi’s hand simultaneously. “i didn’t tell anyone.”

“but i’m… i’m _me_. i’m your best friend. right?”

yunho nodded quickly, quelling any of mingi’s creeping insecurities. “you are. i just… didn’t want you to worry about me.”

mingi glared lightly. “i worry about you anyway. you should have told me. i could have helped.”

“how?”

“i dunno. i still could have helped.”

yunho raised a brow, a slight smirk turning his red-rimmed eyes mischievous. “it would help me if you let me draw a dot on your arm—“

“no.”

yunho shrugged, almost sadly. “it was worth a try.”

yunho said mingi was lucky. but he thought he’d rather be soulmate-less, too. 

he didn’t tell yunho that. 

he wondered if there was a way to get rid of his soulmates. 

then he wondered if he really wanted to. 

  
  
  


their first year of high school started out fine. 

most of the kids from their elementary school had gone to different schools, so the number of people who knew about mingi’s polybond dwindled. somehow, he and yunho had even become slightly more popular, despite mingi’s growing dislike for people. he tried to remain friendly whenever an outsider approached them, but yunho typically did most of the talking, and mingi stuck by his side like a leech. 

their constant close proximity was what made san and wooyoung approach them the second week of school with a very blatant -- “are you two soulmates?”

yunho and mingi looked up at the pair, their conversation about the movie they saw over the weekend coming to an abrupt pause. the one with the gray streak in his hair -- san, mingi thought -- had a friendly grin on his lips, nothing but curiosity in his eyes. his friend wooyoung stood behind him, only his head peeking around san’s shoulder.

yunho glanced at mingi and shook his head. “uh, no… we’re not.” 

the shock that overtook their expressions confused mingi. he had no idea what he and yunho’s friendship looked like to outsiders, and he'd never cared before, but he never considered that they could look like soulmates. he didn’t know how to feel about that. 

“really?” san asked, looking over his shoulder to make quick eye contact with wooyoung, who just shrugged in response. san turned back to them. “i could have sworn you two were soulmates -- you look so close! and you always just talk to each other.” he scratched the back of his neck, eyes crinkling at the force of his smile. “it’s kind of like the rest of the class doesn’t exist."

wooyoung moved forward to stand beside san. “we kind of just figured you guys were soulmates -- we haven’t met ours yet, so we were curious and wanted to find out what it was like to meet your soulmate. sorry for assuming."

yunho just laughed and explained that they were just childhood friends. mingi tuned them out, trying to ignore their conversation about soulmates. when they asked him if he’d met his soulmate (singular, because having more than one was apparently _unthinkable_ ) yet, he was quick to excuse himself to the bathroom. they didn’t ask again after that. 

on their walk home that afternoon, mingi brought up something that had been occupying a large amount of space in his mind the remainder of the school day. “do you think… do you think maybe they had a point?”

yunho looked up from his phone and tucked it away in his pocket. his eyes settled on mingi, but mingi was pointedly ignoring his gaze. “what do you mean?”

mingi bit his lip, debating how to turn his thoughts into words. “i mean -- they said we looked like soulmates. what if we could be?”

yunho's steps paused. mingi followed suit, though his embarrassment urged him to keep moving. “what are you talking about?” yunho pressed. 

mingi let out an aggravated sigh. whether he was annoyed at himself for bringing up the topic in the first place or annoyed at yunho for not immediately understanding what he was trying to say, he didn’t know. 

“i just-- i can’t be with my soulmates, and you don’t have one. why can’t we just call each other our soulmate and be done with it?” 

he finally looked up at yunho, trying to gauge his reaction. yunho's mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyes were narrowed at mingi in a calculating glare. when he didn’t respond, mingi tried to explain more. 

“you heard what san and wooyoung said -- we  _ look and act  _ like soulmates. the only thing we’re missing is the label!” 

yunho shook his head. “not just the label, mingi. soulmates can write on their own skin and have it appear on each other. soulmates are supposed to be able to feel each other’s emotions as the bond grows stronger. we'll never have that."

mingi frowned. “but we don’t need that.”

“but _you can have that,_ mingi!” yunho stressed, throwing his hands up in the air. “you could have that if you’d just write on your damn arm! the universe gave you two soulmates for a reason! you won’t have that with me.”

and mingi hated this conversation. always had, always would. “fine,” he sighed. “forget i said anything. it was a stupid idea anyway.” then he turned and began the trek home, yunho quick to fall into step.

mingi didn’t know why yunho still believed in the damn soulmate system. especially when it had fucked him over the way it did. 

they were nearly home when yunho grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers together. mingi knew it was a silent apology, and let it happen. 

“maybe,” yunho paused, thinking over his words. “maybe when we’re, like, forty, if you still haven’t worked things out with your soulmates and i haven’t found someone i want to be with, then maybe we can do that -- claim we’re soulmates, i mean. but only when we turn forty.”

mingi supposed he could work with that. 

by the end of the month, san and wooyoung were no longer outsiders. they’d managed to squeeze their way into mingi and yunho’s friendship, and in turn, they found a small place in mingi’s heart. 

that year, mingi also found out the names of his soulmates. 

the left was blue. his name was seonghwa.

the right was red. hongjoong. 

it was easier to think of them as “blue and red” than “seonghwa and hongjoong.”

it was easier to say “blue and red do not equal purple” than it was to actually associate names with the colors. somehow it just… solidified everything. and it was unsettling. so mingi never used their names.

but he never forgot them.

  
  
  


the second week of mingi’s second year of high school started out the same as every other morning; with a pair of colorful greetings written across each of his arms. 

they weren’t for him, he knew. the blue was meant for red and the red was meant for blue. seonghwa was for hongjoong and hongjoong was for seonghwa. 

nothing was for mingi. not blue and not red and not seonghwa and not hongjoong. 

despite that, mingi found small comfort in every little bit of ink that danced across his skin. in every little tingle, mingi found a bit of joy. 

he’d pondered that for the longest time; why he found that comfort in something so obviously painful. 

maybe it was the simple fact that his soulmates were happy, because if they were happy it would mean that mingi’s efforts to keep himself hidden weren’t for nothing. maybe it was just part of their soulbond, strengthened solely because of blue and red, despite being held back by purple’s absence. or maybe mingi was affection-deprived enough that any sort of greeting could make him smile. 

he lifted the blankets and pulled the hem of his pajama shorts further up his thigh, revealing the scarily realistic illustration of a koi fish that covered the greater expanse of his upper leg. recently, red had taken to drawing on their legs when mingi was sleeping. some mornings, mingi woke to an assortment of flowers littered across his thigh. others, there was a small landscape or a pretty view to look at. that night, it seemed red was in a “fish” sort of mood.

the drawings were always unfairly perfect. unfairly beautiful. 

mingi sat up in bed, a hand held out to block his sleep-addled eyes from the merciless morning sun. his eyes trailed across the red ink scrawled across his raised arm, then glanced out the window beside him, watching as his elderly neighbor dragged a hose across her back yard. he sat there for a short while, watching as she watered her plants, seemingly content with the world around her. 

he was stalling, he knew, as he watched her. he could make up excuses for himself -- tell himself he was just being a good neighbor in case she tripped over her hose and fell and he’d have to go rescue her… 

it was difficult to get out of bed most days. so he sat and watched his neighbor, waiting for something that he hoped wouldn’t come. then his father would knock on his door and urge him out of bed, the threat of being late on his lips, and mingi would push aside the burden fate had thrust upon him to climb off of his bed and stumble into the shower. 

mingi never looked at his arms after the initial greeting fizzled away. those words weren't for him. they were meant to be a private exchange between blue and red, one they trusted would never be exposed to anyone but each other. from the day mingi learned of his soulmates, he’d done his best to respect that. 

sometimes he’d catch a flash of blue or red in the shower, where he had nothing but soap suds to cover the exposed words. he’d feel those tingles as the words appeared and his eyes would avoid his arms like the plague until he could cover his marked skin. 

then mingi was out his front door, the sleeves of his school uniform pulled down enough to cover everything but his hands. he would feel the tingles as he turned his key in the lock of the front door, just as he did every morning, because his soulmates loved to torture him so.

he would amble down his street, using his phone (ie; candy crush) as a distraction until he met up with san and yunho halfway through his commute, and then finally wooyoung at the front gates. 

he always felt more at ease in the presence of his friends. with them, it was easier to pretend life wasn’t always two steps away from kicking him to the ground, holding him down so that he couldn’t get back up again. 

_ overdramatic.  _

that’s what the thoughts in his head were.  _ dramatic _ . 

he hated those thoughts. he ignored them to the best of his ability. sometimes it worked. 

“so, what club are we gonna join this year?” wooyoung asked, sidling up beside san. their little group of four took slow steps as they ventured closer to the school, looking out over the quad -- where each club’s presidents’ and former members were already setting up for that afternoon’s club fair -- with varying levels of interest. 

mingi was on the more uninterested side, not really one to willingly join a club unless his friends forced him to -- which they’d done last year and would do again this year, even if they had to hold him down while he tried to run and write down his name themselves. 

“what about one of the dance clubs?” yunho suggested. “i think there’s a hip-hop one and one for contemporary.”

“do you think there’s one for ballet?” wooyoung asked, barely glancing up from his phone.

“maybe there’s a club with mixed dance styles,” san piped in. 

“as long as i’m not alone,” mingi began, “i don’t really care what we do.” 

wooyoung leaned across san and yunho, sending a heatless glare mingi’s way. “that’s what you said last year, too, and then you were the first to leave because you “didn’t like it!” 

mingi  _ had  _ been the first to leave their baking club last year, but yunho was quick to follow two days later and san only stayed as long as he did for wooyoung’s sake. they were kicked out a week after yunho left for being “too rowdy.”

mingi shrugged. “maybe you should have picked something we all liked, then.” 

wooyoung simply stuck his tongue out at him, drawing giggles from san and yunho. 

“i think the dance idea sounds good,” yunho decided. he settled an elbow on mingi’s shoulder, the only one in their friend group tall enough to do so. the position was only slightly uncomfortable as they walked. 

mingi nodded in agreement. “i think it would be cool if we could find a mixed dance club, though. that way we don’t have to stick to just one thing, y’know?” 

as they walked into the school, wooyoung came up behind him and wrapped his arms around mingi’s shoulders, either trying to climb him or strangle him. probably both. “i thought you didn’t care what we did!” 

mingi stumbled a bit, but managed not to fall over at the added weight. “i _don’t_ care!”

“stop lying!”

“i’m not!” 

“you are!” 

he was. they all knew it, too. 

san and mingi split ways with wooyoung and yunho, in separate classes this year instead of all together. mingi’d had some difficulties with the change at first, never having  _ not  _ been in the same class as yunho -- but then he realized that san was still with him, and he wouldn’t have to suffer through all of the day’s lessons alone, and it was easier to get used to not being with yunho practically 24/7.

the day started off normal. lunch, where they rejoined with wooyoung and yunho for the allotted hour, was normal (minus wooyoung kicking a soccer ball at one of their seniors and using mingi and yunho as a giant shield). afternoon classes were normal.

the club fair, which mingi had been growing increasingly anxious for throughout the day  (and, really, he knew there was nothing to be anxious about -- but he never _was_ able to calm the bubble of worries that swelled in his chest), was when things finally went sideways. 

the stands and displays were set up in a zig-zag pattern, making it easier to walk through and see all of the clubs the school had to offer. by the time the four of them made it out to the quad, it was already swarmed with people. the sight made mingi’s palms go clammy. 

he could feel yunho’s hand on his wrist, grounding him.

_ perceptive as always.  _

“where should we start?” wooyoung asked, clinging onto mingi and san’s arms like a little leech. “at the front like normal people? or can we start at the back and be public nuisances?”

“we’re not letting you become a delinquent, woo,” yunho commented, ignoring wooyoung’s protests. somehow wooyoung had gotten it into his head that being a delinquent was the first step to becoming the king of their school by his senior year, but san and yunho had yet to actually give into his strange thinking. mingi just found it amusing, and often indulged in wooyoung’s “nefarious planning.”

“fine. then how about we start in the back like slightly strange people?”

“changing a few words doesn’t change the meaning, woo,” san sighed. 

“what? of course it does. now we’re just slightly strange people instead of public nuisances.”

“your logic makes me want to throw a chair.”

mingi hummed. “he does kind of have a point though. “slightly strange” and “public nuisance” are two very different things.”

“not in this context, it isn't,” yunho laughed. “we all know his goal is still to take over the world.”

“of course it is,” wooyoung agreed, quite haughtily. “and mingi will be my right-hand man because he’s the only one supporting my dreams. the rest of you will be my servants and answer to my every beck and call.”

wooyoung held up a hand for a high-five, and mingi slapped it. 

“so, we’re starting at the back, then?”

“ _ no _ , we are not starting at the back--”

they started at the back, where the stand for the baking club was stationed. they (san and wooyoung) received some sour looks from the club president as they passed, and wooyoung ushered them along to the next one rather quickly.

and then the next one, and the next one, and the next one. 

mingi hadn’t realized there were so many clubs. it seemed there were at last maybe seven or eight more clubs than the year prior, and now this year he actually had to  _ socialize  _ with people. 

he blamed san and wooyoung. if they hadn’t forcefully befriended mingi and yunho, mingi wouldn’t have to engage with any of these strange people around him. 

half-way through the lineup, and wooyung still hadn't found a club he deemed “worthy” of their presence. mingi was still holding onto the hope that none of these clubs would be “worthy” of the great and spectacular wooyoung, but then they reached a new club, decked out in green and plastered with hand-drawn posters of campaigns for animals and icebergs and global warming. 

the environmental club. 

before they walked up to the stand, wooyoung pulled them all into a small huddle. “i have a new plan!” 

“plan for what?”

“my world domination, keep up, sannie.”

“my humblest apologies, lord wooyoung.”

“don’t feed his ego,” yunho warned. 

“shut up, your majesty is speaking.”

yunho just rolled his eyes, laughing lightly when he caught mingi’s gaze. 

“so what’s your plan?” mingi asked, determined to keep his status as wooyoung's right-hand man when he eventually _did_ take over the world. or at least their school. 

“so glad you asked! instead of delinquency, i’ll aim for the complete opposite -- i’ll be so nice and good and pure-hearted that the people here will worship the ground i walk on! and the perfect way to start is the environmental club!”

san raised a brow. “i’m not following.”

wooyoung leveled his gaze on san. “environmental club = good person. good person = the people’s worship. the people’s worship = power. understand now?”

yunho looked mildly impressed. “i prefer this plan over delinquency.”

“perfect!” wooyung beamed. “so we’re all in agreement then? we’ll join the environmental club to kickstart my path to glory?” 

mingi should have said “no”. but he wanted to be the right-hand man  _ so bad.  _

at everyone’s reluctant agreement, wooyung dragged them over to the stand, a spark of determination in his eye. 

there were only three people behind the stand. two moved forward to greet them, pleasant smiles ready on their lips. the third stayed back, choosing instead to avoid eye contact and fold sheets of paper into tri-folds. 

the shorter one greeted them first, all friendly and welcoming. mingi noticed his painted nails and the assortment of pins on the lapel of his jacket. “hi! are you guys interested in the environmental club?” 

wooyoung, their self-proclaimed “leader,” nodded and stepped forward. “yeah, all four of us.” 

the taller one, whose hair was dyed a light brown and styled practically perfect in a dainty swoop back out of his forehead, beamed at them. he seemed to have stars in his eyes. “that’s great! we’ve only had one other person really interested so far, so this is a pleasant surprise.”

if mingi’d been paying more attention he would have noticed the words scrawled across the inside of the taller one’s right wrist -- the words from a soulmate that had yet to fade away. he would have noticed the quirky little flowers that looked so identical to the ones that popped up on mingi’s complexion like weeds. 

the pair continued to tell them some more details about the club, obviously excited at the idea of four new members joining. they told them about the fundraisers they held to raise money to donate and about protests they could go to and even of some that they’d organized themselves the year before. they told them about how they were working towards getting the school to enforce stricter recycling rules and the other goals they had for the year before they graduated. 

mingi was  _ almost  _ excited. the environmental club seemed like something he and the rest of his friends could enjoy, and not just a ploy to reach world domination. 

and then, when yunho asked, they introduced themselves. 

“i’m kim hongjoong,” the shorter one began, “ the club president. and this is my vice president, park seonghwa.”

the words hit mingi hard. at that moment, mingi could have sworn his heart actually stopped. he turned to yunho, grabbed his arm, quickly gaining his best friend’s attention. 

“i think i’m gonna be sick,” he managed to murmur, a hand clamped over his mouth.

yunho’s eyes went wide. 

there was barely any time for yunho to lead mingi toward a trash can before mingi was leaning over, vomiting up his lunch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote like five different rough drafts before settling on the final version and i’m still not completely happy with it lmao  
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed!!! this is where the real drama kicks in hehe


	3. ... have names, but mingi can't say them out loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of vomiting and something of a near-panic attack toward the beginning. nothing too bad though

mingi lay facing the wall on his bed, eyes dazed and unblinking as he stared at nothing. the blankets were pulled up to his chin, pillows and stuffed animals pulled in around his front to make himself feel smaller. yunho was wrapped around him from behind, over top of the comforter instead of beneath it. his body practically enveloped mingi’s fetal form. a soothing hand pushed mingi’s hair out of his forehead as yunho hummed a soft tune into the nape of mingi’s neck. 

yunho hadn’t questioned it when mingi asked to be held, just crawled onto the bed and comforted mingi silently (after placing an empty trash can beside the bed in case mingi needed it). he didn’t seem to care that mingi’s vomit just barely missed the tips of his shoes, or that his breath still smelt of regurgitated food.

mingi had yet to cry. the embarrassment of throwing up in the middle of the quad, surrounded by all those judgemental high schoolers, had yet to catch up to him, and he had yet to really register the fact that he’d met his soulmates all but an hour ago. his mind was pretty blank at the moment. 

but he knew the tears would fall eventually. the threat was there -- the tightness in his chest and the lump in his throat grew as each second passed. 

the hand in mingi’s hair stilled every time he sniffled. every time, he felt the weight on the mattress shift, yunho shuffling his weight onto one arm to lean over mingi and check if he was crying. he wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop yunho from checking the next time, or the next. 

“you don’t have to check _every time_ ,” mingi finally told him, voice abnormally soft and broken as he struggled to push past the lump. “if i start to cry, i’ll let you know.” 

yunho hummed, laughing a little at the dry sarcasm. “i know. i just… nevermind.” he sighed, and mingi felt the heat of his breath on the top of his head, ruffling some loose hairs. “how are you feeling?” he asked instead. 

“like shit.” mingi’s eyes fell closed. “i wanna sleep. but i can’t.”

yunho sat up once more. “do you want me to grab you some more antacids? or i can make you some soup, or get some crackers or toast; that might help to settle your stomach.”

mingi shook his head. “i’m not sick.”

yunho had to pause, processing mingi’s response and the events of the hour before. one did not equal the other. “i beg to differ, min. you literally threw up not even an inch away from my foot--”

“i know what happened,” mingi interrupted. he didn’t want to have to relive the event so soon after it happened, and any reminder of the disgusted looks thrown his way as yunho led him off of the school campus was definitely _not_ welcomed. “... but i didn’t throw up because i was sick.”

yunho settled back down on the bed, throwing his arm back around mingi’s upper body and hugging mingi close to him. he hooked his chin on mingi’s shoulder, clinging to him like mingi was his personal teddy bear. “then why did you?”

mingi swallowed, then swallowed again. he felt it, the lump growing bigger and bigger. he knew that if he spoke, the tears would fall. and it wasn’t that he was ashamed of crying, he just wanted to be able to talk to yunho -- to talk about his soulmates -- without being interrupted by a burst of sobs. 

“min-min?” 

mingi drew in a sharp breath, lips twisted and nose scrunched as he tried to hold it back. “i-” another swallow, another deep breath. “hong-hong--” a sharper breath. “and seong--” another sharp breath, followed by a heavy swallow. he couldn’t even say their names.

yunho rubbed his hand up and down the comforter where the impression of mingi’s arm was, quietly shushing him. “it’s okay, min. deep breaths, okay?” and yunho demonstrated, sucking in a long breath through his nose, holding it for a few seconds, and letting it out through his mouth before repeating the process. he repeated a few more times, mingi following along to the best of his ability. 

when yunho deemed him capable of breathing on his own, he asked; “now, what about hongjoong and seonghwa?” when mingi didn’t respond, still trying his hardest to control his breathing, yunho decided to try some “yes” or “no” questions. 

“do you know them already?”

mingi shook his head; _no_.

“did they do anything to you?”

another no. 

yunho hummed, at a loss. “take your time. you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

mingi knew that. but he wanted to tell yunho -- _needed_ to tell someone. and why shouldn’t it be yunho, who had been by his side since day one? who knew mingi better than he knew himself? it couldn’t be anyone _but_ yunho. 

mingi didn’t try to say their names this time. “i think they’re… i think they’re my soulmates.”

and there it was, the proverbial dam cracking. he didn’t sob, and only two small cries left his pursed lips, but his body shook at the force of it. 

of course, it all tumbled down when yunho turned mingi around, tucking mingi’s head beneath his chin. mingi felt small, like a child again, like the day he found out he could never be with his soulmates and his father had held him, sobbing, for hours. _that’s_ when the first real cry broke through, making way for the rest of the bout of sobs. 

mingi didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard the front door open, his father calling out that he was home. with a glance toward the window, mingi realized the sun had almost completely set, just the smallest burst of red dipping beneath his neighbor’s roof. 

yunho tapped the top of his head. “do you want me to go tell him what happened?”

mingi nodded, hoping yunho could make out the movement in the fading light. 

“all of it, or just that you threw up?”

mingi hesitated. he knew how his father got when the topic of soulmates was brought up, but wouldn’t he want to know that mingi had met his? he had some experience in the area, too, so maybe he’d be able to help mingi.

he nodded again. “all of it.”

“alright. i’ll call my mom, too, and see if i can stay the night. oh, and i should text san and wooyoung too -- let them know you’re okay…” yunho’s voice trailed off as he climbed off the bed, looking back at mingi with a furrow in his brow. “i’m assuming you _do_ want me to stay over?”

mingi almost laughed. “obviously.”

yunho smiled, ruffled mingi’s hair, and was out the door, calling out for mingi’s father. 

mingi could barely hear them talking, their voices muffled by the walls and floor between him and them. 

instead of lying in wait, anxiety bubbling back up in his chest, he reached toward his nightstand and grabbed his phone. a few messages from san and wooyoung separately greeted him, telling him they hoped he felt better. there were a few messages in their group chat, also telling him to feel better, then moving on to argue about wooyoung’s plan toward world domination. 

mingi opened up the group chat, ignoring the previous messages as he typed out his own. he debated how much to tell them, whether he was ready to inform them about his soulmate situation or not, before finally settling against it. the fewer people that knew, the better -- even if they were some of his best friends. 

**mingi**

hey

**woo**

OH MY GOD HES ALIVE

SAN LOOK

SAN

SAN

SAN

**sannie**

oH MY GOD HES ALIVE

ARE YOU OKAY

**mingi**

fine lol

food poisoning apparently

i’ll be better by monday

**san**

oh that’s good

how are you feeling now?

**mingi**

better ig

could be worse

**woo**

can we still come over tomorrow 

i want some more of your dads gingerbread cookies

**mingi**

depends on how i feel tomorrow

i’ll let you know in the morning

also,,, he hasn’t made them in over a month

if he makes them just for you im gonna be pissed

**woo**

he just loves me more, nbd

**mingi**

>:(

**woo**

:DDDDD

**san**

get some rest mingi! 

feel better <<<3

**mingi**

thanks sannie

@woo smd

**woo**

no thanks

yunho came back up a few minutes later, phone in hand and a gentle smile on his lips. mingi watched him expectantly, already making room for yunho beside him. “what did he say?”

yunho sighed. “not much of anything. it seemed like he wanted to talk to you about it, though. he said i could stay the night and that he’d have dinner ready in about an hour.” 

mingi hummed. he hadn’t been expecting much else. still, he wanted his father’s advice on the situation. 

yunho held up his phone, then, an eyebrow raised. “and -- food poisoning? seriously?”

mingi scowled and swatted at yunho’s arm. “shut up! i couldn’t think of anything else!”

with a nod, yunho grabbed the tv remote from mingi’s nightstand and turned on the tv across the room from them. he opened up hulu, picking a random unwatched movie from mingi’s list and turning it on. “they wouldn’t judge you, you know. if you told them, i mean.”

mingi nodded. of course, he knew. “if i told san and wooyoung, though, then i’d have three people pressuring me to talk to them. and one’s already enough.” 

yunho huffed a laugh, settling down into a more comfortable position as the movie started. “don’t you think that’s a sign, though? if all three of us want you to talk to them, then it _must_ be fate.”

“you and _fate_ ,” mingi rolled his eyes. “just shut up and watch the movie.”

yunho laughed, pulling mingi down to cuddle once more. 

dinner was quiet, for the most part. yunho and mingi’s father talked about how yunho was and how his family was faring and how his little sister was doing in her new school, but even that conversation fell off after a while. no one said anything about mingi’s soulmates, and it was almost relieving. 

still. mingi wanted to know what his father was thinking. 

he doubted he was mad. but then, he was so against the idea of soulmates, that maybe he could be. 

it wasn’t mingi’s fault he’d met them, though. if anything, it was wooyoung’s. so his father probably wasn’t mad. 

probably.

when their plates were clear, mingi’s father stood up and began collecting dishes. “i’ll clean up, boys. why don’t you go for a walk or something? the fresh air will be good for your stomach.” he looked pointedly at mingi, a look that meant it wasn’t _actually_ a suggestion. 

mingi nodded. he and yunho took their plates to the sink, then grabbed their shoes and coats from the front room. as they stepped out the front door, mingi saw his father raise his phone to his ear. but yunho had the door closed before mingi could hear any of the conversation. 

they walked down the sidewalk slowly, mingi still slightly out of it. yunho had their arms linked together, hands already stuffed inside pockets. it wasn’t cold out, but still breezy enough that it couldn’t be classified as warm either. 

“what do you think he wants to talk to me about?” mingi waited until they were a few houses down to ask. 

yunho hummed thoughtfully. “well... he’s always been really against soulmates, right? if i had to guess, he’d probably warn you against talking to them.” 

it made sense, mingi thought. he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what his father did. 

“but,” yunho continued. “i really don’t think you should ignore them.”

“i hate this conversation. i know exactly where you’re going and i hate it.”

“look -- i know, min-- but i really _don’t_ think ignoring them is the best option. you make fun of me for believing in _fate_ , or whatever, but i firmly believe the universe paired you with them for a reason. i don’t know what it is -- but you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be happy with them.”

mingi shook his head, steps pausing so he could turn and actually meet yunho’s gaze. . “even if i wanted to be with them--” he did. he _did so bad_ . but he couldn’t. they were already happy without him. he swore a long, long time ago that he wouldn’t ruin it. _polybonds never worked out._ “--it’s too late. if i told them i existed now, they’d probably feel betrayed or something. they wouldn’t want me anyway.”

“you don’t know that.”

“and you don’t know that they’d accept me! they’ve had years--” mingi paused to count “--at least ten years-- to get to know each other and fall in love! if i butted in now, it’d just throw everything off. it’d just make us all unhappy.”

yunho looked as frustrated as mingi felt. like if the other would _just listen_ to what they had to say, then all their problems would be solved. but they were both far too stubborn on the topic to actually get anywhere. 

yunho took a deep breath. “fine. you don’t have to tell them you’re their soulmate. but at least consider joining the club with us, please. we all want to be in the same club as you, and wooyoung has his heart set on it, world domination or not.” then yunho’s lips lifted into a smirk. “besides, maybe if you get to know them, you’ll find you actually _do_ want to be with them.”

and that’s exactly what mingi was afraid of. 

that night, while yunho was getting ready for bed in the bathroom, mingi’s father knocked on the door. mingi looked up, watching as his father peeked into the room. “i made some gingerbread cookies. wanna come down and eat some with me while they’re still warm?”

mingi nodded, crawling out of bed with a blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and shuffling toward the door. he debated knocking on the bathroom door to let yunho know where he was going, but then thought better of it; his father was probably going to talk to him about his soulmates, and he most likely didn’t want yunho there while he did so.

so mingi bounded down the stairs behind him, the smell of fresh gingerbread cookies invading his nostrils. 

he missed that smell. 

the cookies were sitting out on the wire cooling racks, cooled off enough to eat but still soft and squishy and warm enough that it was comforting. mingi grabbed three and placed them on a napkin before shuffling over to the couch. his father followed, two of his own cookies on a napkin, and sat beside mingi. he wrapped an arm around mingi’s shoulders and pulled him close. 

mingi nibbled on the head of a gingerbread man. "who did you call earlier?"

"your uncle." he didn't elaborate, and mingi didn't push for more of an explanation. “yunho told me what happened today. that you met your soulmates and threw up.”

mingi nodded. if it had been any other kind of cookie or any other food in general, he would have lost his appetite by the first word. but they were gingerbread cookies, and it wasn’t difficult to keep eating them. 

“did you talk to them at all?”

mingi shook his head this time. “no. after i threw up, yunho had san and wooyoung inform a teacher and then brought me home. i didn’t see _them_ at all after that.” mingi sighed, trying to push the memory out of his head, and snuggled in closer to his father’s side. “i don’t know what to do, appa. yunho says i should try to talk to them, but...”

mingi’s father was already done his first cookie. “i’ve told you before, min-min; soulmates aren’t good. they never end well. especially-”

“polybonds,” mingi finished. “i know.”

his father sighed, brushing his hand up and down mingi’s arm. “i’m sorry mingi. i’m sorry you have to go through this.”

“what... what do i do?”

“i can’t tell you what to do, mingi. not about this. but, if you want my opinion... it’ll be better for you in the long run if you avoid them. the closer you get to them, the worse it will hurt when something inevitably goes wrong.”

mingi wanted so badly to ask about his father's soulmate. to ask about his mother. to ask what happened to make his father so against soulmates. but he hated to make people uncomfortable, and if his father hadn’t already told him, that meant mingi didn’t need to know. so he never -- not even when he learned about soulmates -- asked. maybe he should have.

when mingi went back upstairs, a plate of gingerbread cookies in hand, yunho was already settled into the bed. at one point in their lives, they would have spread a futon across the floor for yunho to sleep on. but when mingi traded in his twin-sized bed for a queen, the futon became more and more useless. so now they never bothered to spread it out. 

yunho glanced up from his phone, eyes lighting up at the sight of the plate in mingi’s hands. mingi handed him the plate and rolled over top of him, crawling beneath the blankets before snatching another cookie from the plate. 

“what did you talk about?” yunho asked through a mouthful of cookie. 

“i think you already know.”

yunho hummed a confirmation. “and what did he say?”

“that i should try to avoid them. that it’ll be easier to move on when something goes wrong if i’m not close to them.”

yunho watched him for a moment, eating another whole cookie before finally responding. “he sounds awfully sure that something’s gonna go wrong.”

mingi thought about not responding, well aware that yunho would keep pushing even though mingi’s mind was already made up. “i threw up the first time i met then, yunho. that has to be some kind of sign.”

“a sign that you have a weak stomach, maybe, but i don’t think one little incident is going to affect your whole relationship.” 

“whatever. just eat your cookies. wanna watch another movie?”

yunho grumbled, shoving another cookie into his mouth. he dropped the remote into mingi’s hands; he knew the conversation was over. 

mingi didn’t fall asleep until early the next morning, mind preoccupied with thoughts of soulmates and clubs and yunho and san and wooyoung and his father. his thoughts ran wild, not tiring until an hour before the sun rose.

wooyoung and san came over the next day, wooyoung practically tackling mingi’s father in a hug when he saw the gingerbread cookies on the kitchen counter. they bombarded mingi with questions about the day before, asking if he was okay and what -exactly- had given him food poisoning, but laid off when they realized how surprisingly not-sick he looked. 

mingi hadn't checked his arms for greetings from blue and red that morning, or his legs for a new drawing from red. he knew what he would find if he pulled up his sleeves; a painful reminder of the events from the day before. 

“were you lying to me? i feel like you should be dead right now.” wooyoung pressed. they were all sat in a lopsided circle on mingi's floor, snacks and drinks spread out between them and a game of _cards against humanity_ already in session. mingi was winning, with wooyoung at a close second. 

“i wasn’t that sick, woo. i was fine by the time we made it home.”

“we?” wooyoung asked. his eyes fell to yunho. “did you sleep over last night?”

yunho nodded. 

“not fair! you should have invited us, too!”

mingi raised a brow, shuffling through his cards. “but i was sick.”

“apparently not.” 

mingi raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything. instead he placed a card down in the center. san picked them up, reading them aloud and filling in the blanks of the black card with the white ones. 

mingi won the round, again. 

“well, if anyone gives you any shit for puking in the middle of the quad on monday, i’ll scratch their eyeballs out.”

“what happened to being so nice that everyone worships you?”

wooyoung paused. “yunho will scratch their eyeballs out. i won’t snitch, though. snitches get stitches.”

yunho scoffed, concentrating mostly on his cards. “thanks for volunteering me, woo.”

“welcome.”

yunho sighed and turned to mingi. “don’t worry, min. i doubt anyone will say anything about it. if they do, just ignore them. everyone probably already forgot about it anyway.”

san hummed in agreement. “hongjoong hyung and seonghwa hyung were wondering if you were okay, by the way. they asked us to let them know if we ever saw them before clubs started.”

mingi stiffened, feeling yunho’s gaze on his face. but he didn’t turn to meet it. he kept his eyes on his cards, pretending to read through them with feigned nonchalance. “about clubs... i don’t think i’m going to be able to join any this year.” 

wooyoung gaped at him. “what? why? says who?”

mingi frowned. he’d been expecting this reaction. he was actually surprised wooyoung wasn’t trying to strangle him yet. “i have a bigger course load this year, being in the higher class and all. i don’t think i’ll have time for a club.”

“but san’s in the same class as you, and he has time for a club!”

“not really, i’m just sacrificing my free time,” san interjected. 

“what do you mean “sacrifice”? you get to spend it with me!”

“i can’t take the stress of juggling homework _and_ a club, woo.” not entirely a lie. “i’m sorry, but i don’t think i can join a club this year. if it turns out the homework isn’t too bad, maybe i’ll be able to join later.”

wooyoung sighed, shoulders drooping and nearly showing everyone his cards. “fine. i’ll still let you be my right-hand man, but only because i pity you.”

“how generous.” san scoffed. 

but mingi smiled, glad his friends were so understanding, even if he wasn’t completely telling them the truth.

mingi won the next round, too, then won the whole game. wooyoung demanded they play another game so he could steal mingi’s “c.a.h. crown.”

mingi won that game, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me tell you, listening to idk you yet by alexander 23 on loop while writing this is a special kind of hurt that i've never felt before


	4. ... are very friendly

monday morning came sooner than mingi would have liked. really, he would have preferred if monday never came at all. he would have been content to live his boring, mundane sunday over and over again if it meant he didn’t have to go back to school and face everyone -- his soulmates, most importantly. the longer he could go without showing his face, the better.

but he had an education to receive and a gpa to maintain and a father who, despite his sympathy, wouldn’t let mingi stay home unless he was running a high fever or covered in hives from head to toe. so he was up and out the door like normal, using candy crush as a distraction from his worries until he met up with yunho and san at their usual spot.

just like saturday and sunday morning, mingi refrained from looking at his arms and legs when he woke up. he just couldn’t bring himself to pull back his sleeves, the wonder that if he would still feel a small sense of peace if he laid eyes on the words and the flowers overrun by the fear that all they would bring him is hurt. so he refused to give himself the chance to find out. the tingles he felt when words appeared and the frantic fizzle when they disappeared were enough of a clue that he wouldn’t like the answer. 

throughout the weekend, mingi tried not to think about what would happen when he returned to school. he wondered how many people would remember him as the kid that threw up in the quad, and how many people would comment on it. his friends had assured him multiple times that most people would’ve forgotten about it, but mingi had his doubts.

a kid throwing up in the middle of the quad was practically  _ monumental _ . school was so boring that anything mildly exciting buzzed around for days, and sometimes even  _ weeks _ . 

mingi’s incident had to be fairly high on the scale of excitement. if he was lucky, people would let the event die down maybe by next month. or maybe something else even more exciting would happen before then, and mingi would be able to drift back onto the sidelines where he was comfortable and safe and he didn't have to worry about being back in the gossip column . 

mingi decided long ago he wasn’t very lucky, so he wasn’t too hopeful. 

yunho threw an arm around mingi’s shoulder when they met up, eyes latched onto mingi’s game and making unnecessary commentary as they walked. neither were paying very much attention to where they were going, but san was quick to yank them out of the way of oncoming poles and lifts in the sidewalk.

mingi was grateful for san. wooyoung might have just let them run into a pole. he would have laughed if they’d tripped over their own feet and went tumbling to the ground. he probably wouldn’t have even helped them up.

mingi supposed he was grateful for wooyoung, too. he knew how to make mingi smile when he was down. 

when they met up with wooyoung outside the front gates, mingi tried to morph his expression into a mask of indifference. if he looked like he cared what people were thinking, it would scream:  _ yes, i am the kid from friday. please come ask me about my traumatic experience, i won’t despise you at all.  _ but if he looked like he didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought of him, it was less likely that anyone would try to bring the incident up with him. 

he’d learned that long ago, too. when names like “multiple-mingi” still made his heart sting and kids were cruel without really intending to be.

being with his friends, though, mingi doubted anyone would really try anything. and he wouldn’t be completely alone throughout the day, san at least across the room during class. it was a shitty reassurance, but still a reassurance nonetheless. 

to mingi’s pleasant surprise, no one said anything nasty  _ directly to him _ . some kids from his class that recognized his face from friday came up to him to ask if he was feeling better, and though mingi was embarrassed, he was relieved some people cared enough to ask. others shared whispers about him and shot him looks, but that was something mingi was used to. 

whispers and looks came with throwing up at school, just as whispers and looks came with having a polybond. it was just the nature of things. the nature of people. anything different or weird or embarrassing was talked about because that’s just how people were.

by lunchtime, when san and mingi met back up with wooyoung and yunho, the bubble of anxiety in mingi’s chest had nearly shriveled up into nothing.

still, he couldn’t wait to get home and take a long nap. maybe gorge himself on the last few gingerbread cookies beforehand. maybe he’d do his homework first, too, so that he didn’t have to worry about it after his nap. 

their group of four sat in their usual spot at lunch, off to the side of the quad and out of the way of the volleyball team and the soccer kids that liked to “practice” during lunch. typically, they were careful to keep their balls away from anyone eating, but more often than acceptable, they were being cussed out by a group of kids for hitting one of their friends with a ball. 

after the first time wooyoung got hit, san and yunho made sure to sit as close to the school walls as possible, determined to keep it from happening again.

wooyoung still liked to glare at them from afar, though, whenever a screech sounded from somewhere across the quad. “i don’t understand why they can’t just find a new place to “practice,” he grumbled. “like the gym, where they belong.”

“soccer isn’t an indoor sport, woo,” san reminded him. “and the volleyball gym isn’t open until after school.”

“and they decide to make that my problem  _ why _ ?”

“you literally got hit  _ once _ ,” yunho deadpanned. 

“one time too many. i think i may have permanent brain damage because of them.” 

“explains a lot,” mingi muttered, stuffing a large helping of noodles into his mouth and hoping wooyoung hadn’t heard him.

he had. “i will revoke your right-hand man status, so help me--!”

mingi turned to him with wide eyes, attempting for an innocent, pleading look that sometimes helped to get him out of trouble.

wooyoung looked away, grumbling silently. 

with a small smirk, mingi turned away to glance around the quad. the volleyball team seemed to have their ball under control, so he watched the soccer kids with wooyoung for a moment, wondering if their ball would go for a trip into some poor kid’s lunch. when nothing entertaining enough happened, he turned away to survey the area once more. 

as far as he could tell, it was mostly the usual people in their usual spots. the first years didn’t like to sit outside (he knew from experience), all of the upperclassmen staking claim the first day. even some second years preferred not to eat outside, and mingi would have been one of them had it not been for san and wooyoung. he was glad they’d dragged him out here, though. it was more or less peaceful sitting outside on a nice day, eating his lunch with his friends. it was a nice break from the pressure he felt during a class, and he had little to worry about --

mingi’s eyes landed on a small group of third years a few meters away from him. he only knew they were third years because blue and red were sitting with them. 

he should have looked away. really, he should have stood up right then and there and walked right back inside the school and up to his classroom, fuck the risk of being alone. but he didn’t look away, too caught up in the shock of seeing blue and red again. to think they’d been there for two weeks, only a few meters from where mingi was sitting… 

blue turned his head then, at the absolutely terribly  _ perfect  _ moment to meet mingi’s gaze. he must have recognized mingi pretty quickly, because his kind smile was almost immediate, a hand raising up in the air in a friendly wave. it caught red’s attention, and red was soon waving, too.

everything inside of mingi was screaming at him to turn away and act like he hadn’t seen them. maybe if he didn’t respond they’d think his wandering eyes had passed right over them and he hadn’t even taken notice of their waving. but he’d been staring at them for too long to get away with it, mouth gaping and eyes wide in disbelief. 

and his father hadn’t raised him to be rude, no matter who it was. mingi found himself waving back, minus the smile and the open friendliness. 

he was quick to turn away once their hands fell, hoping that they’d realize he didn’t want to interact with them and go back to their own friends. 

mingi ignored yunho’s knowing gaze, instead deciding to root through his lunch. 

mingi knew he shouldn’t have drunk that much water throughout the day. _ he knew it.  _ he knew it would come back to bite him in the ass. because here he was, rushing through the halls to find the closest bathroom. it wasn’t safe to be out alone, either. san, wooyoung, and yunho weren’t there to ward off anyone that might want to tease him about the incident on friday. he hated wandering around the halls on a  _ normal  _ day, let alone at time like this, and now his anxiety was spiking.

mingi thought the worst thing that would happen to him during his trek to the bathroom would be someone making fun of him. he -- irrationally -- even thought that “multiple-mingi” might make a comeback, possibly accompanied by some other, newer insults, that could leave more of a lasting impact on his mental health. 

honestly, mingi probably would have preferred it. 

anything over running into his  _ fucking soulmate,  _ who he’d more or less been actively trying to avoid.

blue stood in front of him, a stack of papers clasped to his chest and eyes wide open in surprise. 

mingi couldn’t even run away. not only would it have been incredibly rude, impossible to make a complete 180 and leave without seeming like a total dick, but he was, quite literally, rooted to the spot. his feet wouldn’t move. he couldn’t take a step backward, or take a step forward. it was like his subconscious had decided that this was where he was supposed to be for the rest of his miserable life; standing in front of one of his soulmates, mouth gaping open and closed like a fucking fish, brain completely shut down.

then blue smiled; an easy, friendly smile that probably seemed so inviting to normal people. to mingi, however, it was almost threatening. “hey, you’re song mingi, right?”

“how did you-- my name?” mingi stumbled. his mind wasn’t even functioning enough to scold himself for it. 

blue’s head tilted to the side, that friendly, taunting smile still gracing his lips. “ your friends -- san-ah and wooyoung-ah -- told us your name friday after you left.” his eyebrows upturned into something of concern, and his eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights. “how are you feeling, by the way?”

mingi stared at him for a long moment, blue’s words replaying over and over again in a jumbled, incoherent mess. he managed to piece together the last sentence, responding with a very delayed -- “uh, fine, i guess. just food poisoning, apparently.” he averted his eyes, pulling his sleeves down absentmindedly before uttering a quick “thank you for your concern!” 

and, wow, this conversation would definitely be one that played over and over again in his head decades from now, taunting him and his embarrassing stupidity. 

the friendly smile was back. “that’s good to hear.”

then came the awkward silence. mingi considered sidestepping blue and continuing on his journey to the bathroom before anything worse could happen. he considered, again, turning around and heading back to class, figuring his bladder could hold until school let out. 

before he could attempt either, however, blue spoke up once more. 

“are you still considering joining the environmental club? we’d love to have you and the rest of your friends -- the more the merrier!”

and, oh god, here came the agonizing process of dumping a bucket of disappointment on blue. because he was  _ not  _ joining the environmental club, no matter who asked, pleaded, and begged him to. and mingi really,  _ really  _ hated disappointing people. 

mingi tugged at his sleeves again. he knew it wasn’t possible for blue to see his arms -- or, more specifically, the words and flowers that would match his own (and he knew they were there because the tingles were having a fucking fiesta) -- but that didn’t stop him from pulling them down to his knuckles. “i’m not joining, actually.”

blue’s face dropped into a frown. 

mingi panicked, as one does. “my friends are planning on joining, though! i just can’t really deal with clubs this year -- a lot of homework and everything… i won’t be joining any clubs this year, so please don’t think it was just yours!”

blue smiled softly, and something close to relief flooded through mingi’s system. “i didn’t think that was what you meant, but thank you for elaborating.” blue laughed a bit and took a step to the side in preparation to walk around mingi. “i do hope you reconsider, though. we’d love to have you.” 

and with that, he was gone, moving along down the hall with mingi’s eyes glued to his back. 

_ crisis averted _ , mingi told himself. 

and still, his heart rate refused to slow.

mingi debated not telling yunho about his encounter with blue. it would have saved them the argument, the typical “you should tell them” -- “no, they’re happy without me” -- “that’s bullshit i will hurt you” -- that they were bound to have. 

but it felt weird not to say anything. despite the argument, despite knowing that yunho would push him into telling his soulmates that he actually existed, keeping what happened locked up inside mingi’s head wouldn’t help anything. and so he told yunho what happened, eyes glued to the sidewalk as they made their way towards mingi's house. 

yunho didn’t say anything for a few moments, but it wasn’t hard for mingi to guess what was coming. 

“join the club.”

“no.” mingi would not --  _ would not _ \-- join the club. he had his mind _set_. he knew he wouldn't be able to deal with it. soulmates aside, even just the social aspect of joining a club was enough to make that painful bubble in his chest return.

yunho tugged on mingi’s arm, pulling them both to an abrupt stop. “i’m serious, mingi! you can’t just avoid them forever!”

“i can and i will.”

“obviously, you can’t.”

mingi glared at yunho. “that was an accident. if i just stay out of the halls when they’re not full of people, it’ll be easy to avoid them.”

yunho rolled his eyes, as if  _ mingi  _ was the one being irrational. “it’s not that simple, min. you’re connected to them. like it or not, you’re gonna keep running into them until you die.” 

mingi pushed forward, refusing to keep pace with yunho. “you don’t know that.”

“i do, actually. the soulmate blog i follow says you’re connected to your soulmates and are naturally drawn to them, so you’ll run into them anywhere and everywhere. you’re naturally compelled to be near them.”

mingi stopped. he turned to face yunho once more, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “you just made that up.” 

yunho shook his head. “i didn’t. i can send you the link, if you want it.”

“no, thank you.” mingi sighed and continued walking, considering leaving yunho stranded on the front porch once they reached his house, just to be a little mean. 

yunho quickly caught up to him. “please join the club, min. if not for your soulmates, then just for san, wooyoung, and me. it won’t be the same without you there.”

mingi chewed on the inside of his mouth and fiddled with his sleeves. “i’ll think about it, i guess.” 

mingi gave in too easily. 

he liked to think he was stubborn, but when it came to things like yunho’s feelings, it was hard not to relent. the only thing he was ever really successful being stubborn about was contacting his soulmates. he was like an immobile boulder when it came to them.

yunho shrugged. “i’m taking that as a win.”

they were quiet for the next few minutes. it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like earlier with blue. mingi’s skin wasn’t pricking with nerves and his heartbeat had yet to spike up to an unnatural pace. mingi couldn’t remember a time where he really felt uncomfortable around yunho. he hoped he’d never made yunho uncomfortable. 

they were only a few houses away from mingi’s when a thought popped into his head. 

“since when do you follow a soulmate blog?”

yunho looked surprised for a moment before the question actually clicked. “oh, i found it saturday after i left your house.”

raising a brow, mingi pressed; “and why, exactly, are you following a soulmate blog?”

yunho shrugged and averted his eyes. “i was actually looking for stuff on polybonds -- to see if i could find anything that would help.” he scratched the back of his neck, almost looking sheepish. “but i got kinda distracted and ended up scrolling through the blog instead.” 

mingi didn’t really know how to respond to that. he stepped up onto the porch in lieu of response and unlocked the door, the thought of leaving yunho outside pinging through his mind. 

he wasn’t that cruel, though, and as much as he failed, mingi knew yunho was only trying to help him. 

yunho continued as they stepped inside. “the blog actually had some interesting stuff in it. i think it would really benefit you to look through it, min.”

mingi shrugged off his uniform blazer, simultaneously toeing off his shoes. “maybe it would, yunnie. but i’d rather think of anything  _ but  _ soulmates right now.” 

“that means you’ll look at it later, though, right?” 

mingi glared up at yunho’s hopeful expression. 

“you said “right now.” that means you can look at it later.”

a sigh left mingi’s lips. he turned on his heel and shuffled toward the kitchen, refusing to grace yunho with a response. _ where were the gingerbread cookies?  _

“i’m sending you the link anyway!” yunho called after him, struggling to step out of his shoes as he tapped away on his phone. a moment later, mingi’s phone vibrated in his pocket. he didn’t pull it out to look at it, however, instead digging through the pantry to find the container of gingerbread cookies he knew had been there when he’d left this morning. 

that night, when yunho was long gone and his father was hiding away in his office to finish up some work, mingi cuddled up against the arm of the couch, a random drama playing on the tv. he flicked through some of his unread messages and opened yunho’s, having completely forgotten about it until that moment. 

**yunho <3**

[ link ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ)

please read it min

there’s some stuff in there i think you need to see

mingi didn’t open it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i already have some stuff planned for next chapter, so if all goes well it should be out soon! sooner then this one came out at least :p


	5. ... are amazing people

the rest of the week came and went without much incident. mingi didn’t let his gaze wander around the quad during lunch, lest he make eye contact with blue or red again. he stayed out of the halls during class out of the hope that maybe he wouldn’t bump into them, and refused to go anywhere without yunho or san or wooyoung by his side. 

and friday, when it came time to turn in club forms, yunho, san, and wooyoung had to turn theirs in without mingi’s, “environmental club” scrawled across the top of each of them. 

he knew his friends were upset. even if they’d tried to hide it, he would have known. they’d bugged him and pestered him about it all week, trying to convince him to join, to no avail. 

he  _ had  _ given it consideration, however. he debated if avoiding his soulmates was really worth not getting to be with his friends. he didn’t even really have to talk to them, right? they were just the president and vice president of the club, not like he had to follow their orders or anything…

but everything fizzled down to the fact that he knew he couldn’t handle being around his soulmates. he was afraid -- terrified, more like -- of what would happen if he got too close to them. they may find out, for one. and if that happened they’d be upset he’d never said anything to them. they’d reject him because polybonds don’t work out and yunho would be upset that mingi had fucked things up and san and wooyoung would be upset that he’d never told them about his polybond and his dad would be upset that mingi had even interacted with his soulmates in the first place and -- there were too many negatives, and not enough positives.

worst of all, mingi was afraid of falling in love with his soulmates. 

and mingi couldn’t let that happen.

because blue and red doesn’t equal purple. fuck the color wheel; it was a _liar_. 

so as much as he would have reveled in the time spent with his best friends, mingi didn’t hand in a club form. 

the following monday, mingi found himself walking home from school alone, the other three-fourths of their quartet excitedly headed to their first club meeting. 

it was weird, walking home alone. usually yunho was by his side for most of the trip, if not all of it, sometimes with the addition of san and/or wooyung. he didn’t really know how long it had been since yunho wasn’t walking along next to him, the pair headed to one house or the other to spend the afternoon together. 

_ it was last year,  _ mingi thought.  _ when i quit the club and yunho hadn’t yet.  _

it was funny, the way parallels worked. except this was more of a perpendicular line, just barely  _ bordering  _ on parallel. 

math things.

mingi, unsurprisingly, wondered if he’d made the right choice. if he joined the club, it could have been precious time spent with his friends. he could have been doing good things for the environment, too -- more than just being conscious of his water usage and using a reusable water bottle over a flimsy plastic one.

but his soulmates.

_ but his soulmates. _

mingi pulled out his phone, diverting to candy crush for a distraction. 

dinner was pizza and a bland, solely green kale salad, ordered from that one shop in town -- the one mingi definitely should know the name of by now. like usual, there wasn’t much small talk between mingi and his father, both preferring to eat in silence. 

then; “did yunho not come over today?”

mingi looked up at his father, still struggling to disconnect a long string of cheese from the slice of pizza in his hands. he shook his head, grinding his teeth in an attempt to saw the cheese apart. 

mingi’s father raised a brow, picking through his salad. “something happen between the two of you?”

mingi swallowed, eyes wide and frantically shaking his head. “no, no, we’re fine. he just had a club meeting today. the… the one i told you about. with my... soulmates.” 

mingi’s voice trailed off at the end, quickly losing confidence. he turned to his pizza for the comfort he knew it couldn’t give. 

his father made an “ah,” sound, still picking through his pathetic excuse for a salad. mingi thought he had yet to actually eat any of it. “and you didn’t join?”

mingi shook his head “no,” looking down at his pizza like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.  _ why was it so greasy?  _

“i think,” his father started, then paused to reconsider his words. “i think… you made the right choice, min-min. it will save you from a lot of heartache, in the long run.”

mingi knew he was trying to be supportive. to mingi, that’s all his father had ever tried to be. 

at one point, his father’s reassurance of his choice would have made mingi feel better. at one point it would have quelled the guilt swirling inside mingi’s chest every time he  thought of how much his friends wanted him to join the club with them.

san and wooyoung didn’t even know the real reason why mingi refused. 

later that night, seated at his desk and scribbling down some random doodles of flowers and random creatures out of sheer boredom, mingi’s phone lit up with a facetime call from yunho. he hadn't really been expecting it, but the call wasn’t a surprise, either. it  _ was  _ yunho, after all. arbitrary facetime calls weren’t an abnormality. 

mingi set up his phone against an empty glass so that it was facing him, and accepted the call. 

yunho waved into the camera, a small smile on his lips. from what mingi could tell, he was on the floor, a random pillow-pet tucked beneath his head. “hey, min-min,” yunho greeted, soundly entirely too upbeat for mingi to  _ not  _ be suspicious. 

“what on earth are you so happy for?” he asked, flicking off his desk light before relocating to his bed. he had a feeling this conversation was going to be a “cuddle-up-in-some-blankets-because-yunho’s-about-to-drop-some-bombs” kind of conversation. he had plenty of experience with those, so he grabbed onto a large stuffed shark and squeezed it to his chest. 

the camera came closer to yunho’s face so that just his eyes and forehead were in the frame. “guess what happened.”

mingi pulled a face. “no.”

the camera moved again, focusing on the lower half of yunho’s face. “guess, min.” 

“i refuse. tell me or don’t tell me, i don’t care.”

yunho pulled the camera back again, revealing his pout and shining eyeballs. “you’re not fun, mingi-yah.” he sighed, shuffling a little on his floor. “fine, i guess i’ll tell you.” a pause, for dramatic effect, and then another zoom in on the space between his eyes, brows and lashes just barely visible. his next words came out in a harsh whisper. “hongjoong hyung asked about you!” 

yunho pulled the phone back and slapped a hand over his mouth, as if he’d just told mingi the royal queen of england had done something absolutely  _ scandalous _ . 

mingi, meanwhile, had a difficult time processing yunho’s words. red had… asked about mingi? like, actually asked about him… specifically? as in, by name? specifically? specifically mingi? by name? specifically?

“what?” he managed to mutter, grip on his shark falling slack in utter confusion.

yunho grinned at the camera and repeated; “hongjoong hyung asked about you, min!”

_ by name? specifically? _

“i heard you the first time. i’m just… very confused.”

yunho scoffed. “what’s there to be confused about? your soulmate wants you in the club!” 

red wanted him in the club? mingi? specifically? in the club? what?

mingi took a moment to respond. yunho was being very vague, and mingi was tired, and he had a difficult time comprehending what yunho had told him. finally; “are you on drugs? is that what they do in the environmental club? give you drugs? is that what’s happening here? cause i really can’t come up with any other explanation other than you were given drugs.” 

yunho’s eyes widened. “what? no, of course, i’m not on drugs. it’s literally a club about helping the environment.”

“then i got nothing. explain before my brain fries, please.”

“i was getting there,” yunho huffed. he rolled his eyes and turned onto his side, giving mingi a view of solely his right eyeball, before pulling back to reveal most of his upper body, shoulders included. “when we showed up to the meeting today, hyung noticed the blatant lack of one song mingi and asked what had made you change your mind about joining -- for improvement purposes or whatever --” yunho rolled his eyes, waving a hand around in the air. “-- anyway, we told him about your homework issues and whatnot and wooyoung  _ might  _ have mentioned something about you being antisocial and not being great with new people--” yunho cut himself off with a grin, shaking the phone in his hand. “-- and then hyung offered you a trial run!”

mingi blinked at him, still mildly confused. “a trial run?” 

“yes, a trial run! he said that if it was the thought of meeting new people that kept you from joining the club, you could just come with us to the meeting tomorrow to see what it’s like. he said you can leave anytime you need to and to let him know if there’s anything he can do to make it more comfortable for you! he said he didn’t want you to miss out on having fun with us because he failed to “recognize some people struggle with social situations and need to go about them differently.” so not only is he really nice and actually  _ aware  _ of the fact that some people can’t just  _ join  _ a club, he actually  _ wants you _ to join said club!” 

yunho was practically beaming at him by the time he finished. 

mingi’s brain was still reeling. 

yunho took mingi’s silence as his queue to continue. “seonghwa hyung, too. he said that you can have as many “trial runs” as you need and that if you  _ do  _ end up deciding you want to join the club, it’s not too late.” 

mingi bit his lip. “but they don’t want me to join as their soulmate, they’re just eager to gather new members.” 

yunho waved his hand in dismissal. “maybe, but look at it this way; they still want you around. if they were repulsed by the fact that you vomited the first time you saw them, they probably wouldn’t be pushing for you to join.”

mingi hadn’t even been worried about that. the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until yunho brought it up. 

mingi sighed and rubbed his forehead. “i dunno, yunho. i  _ do  _ want to join, but at the same time, i don’t. i just… i don’t want to risk accidentally getting too close to them.”

yunho’s energy finally seemed to peter out, because his grin fell and he rolled over onto his back with a heavy sigh. “at least do  _ one  _ trial, mingi. please? tomorrow they said we’re making posters, so you won’t even really have to interact with them much.” 

mingi chewed on the inside of his mouth, contemplating it. a trial couldn’t hurt, he supposed. he could leave when he wanted, and he didn’t really have to talk to them, so maybe it would be okay…

still, any contact with his soulmates couldn't be good.

“i’ll think about it,” he finally concluded. 

yunho pouted at him. “better than nothing, i guess.” he rolled onto his stomach, hooking his chin up onto the palm of his hand. “i think wooyoungie might have cried a little, by the way. when we had to go to the meeting without you.”

“you’re such a liar,” mingi scoffed, but he couldn’t keep the small huff of laughter from escaping. 

he didn’t sleep much that night, conflicting feelings practically going to war inside him.

the next day at lunch, wooyoung (who hadn’t been at the gates that morning to meet them) practically pounced on mingi when he and san made it to their usual space in the quad. he latched onto mingi’s arm and yanked him down to sit beside him, shoving a red velvet cupcake, decked out with snow-white icing and a dusting of silver glitter, into his hands without explanation. a cupcake was quickly handed to san, too, and with a quick glance, mingi noticed yunho had one as well, and there was a whole container of them in the center of their circle. 

mingi held up the cupcake, inspecting it for… something. maybe poison. when he found nothing blatantly life-threatening, he shot wooyoung a questioning look. “uh... what's this, woo?” 

he didn’t think it was anyone’s birthday, though it wouldn't have been the first time he’d forgotten. 

“it’s a cupcake.” wooyoung deadpanned. “that's edible glitter, by the way.”

mingi gaped at him. “yeah, i can see that.  _ why  _ is there a cupcake?” 

wooyoung slapped at san’s hand when he went to peel the wrapper off. “you can’t eat it yet! you have to wait until he gets here!” 

mingi glanced at san, who looked borderline offended at being slapped, then to yunho who had definitely made the same mistake already by the dejected look on his face. mingi turned back to wooyoung, who was frantically looking around the quad. “and who are we waiting for?” 

“my soulmate.”

mingi’s eyes widened substantially, and he nearly dropped his cupcake face-down in surprise. “your  _ soulmate _ ? when did that happen?” 

yunho spoke up, then, picking at the wrapper of his cupcake. “i thought i told you yesterday -- guess i forgot. wooyoung met his soulmate yesterday. one of the guys in the club named kang yeosang. woo invited him to eat lunch with us.”

san piped in, looking all too pleased with himself. “i was the reason they found out. i drew squidward's face on woo’s hand and it showed up on yeosang’s!”

mingi had nothing against soulmates. he really didn’t. despite the pang in his chest whenever he saw a pair together, he felt happy that they, at least, had someone. so he wasn’t jealous of wooyoung. not at all. no green envy to be found.  _ none _ . 

“and there are cupcakes because…?”

yunho sighed, looking longingly down at his cupcake. “wooyoung decided at midnight that he wanted to make yeosang cupcakes. thus, here we are.” 

suddenly wooyoung was slapping at mingi’s shoulder with one hand, the other raised high in the air in an ecstatic wave. “he’s coming this way!” he stressed, mouth barely opening in a poor attempt to be discrete. “eat the cupcakes now -- and make sure to stress that they’re the best you’ve ever had!”

mingi shared a look with san, before peeling the wrapper off half of his cupcake. he bit into it, surprised by how good it was. then a thought popped into his head -- “you bought these and put them in a different container, didn’t you?”

wooyoung glared down at him, looking ready to tackle him to the ground. “i will strangle you, so help me -- yeosang! hi!” 

_ a complete 180. _

mingi looked up at the new addition, slowly coming to the realization that he’d been the third person at the stand during the club fair. his hair was long, almost styled like a mullet, but where it had been light brown before, it was now a fuzzy platinum blonde. 

wooyoung patted the space beside him, looking up at his soulmate with a gentle smile and adoring eyes. yeosang did as told, greeting the rest of them. yunho, san, and -- he paused when he met mingi’s gaze, his polite smile faltering slightly. 

wooyoung noticed, intervening before mingi could flounder under the unexpected social distress. “this is song mingi, one of my best friends. he was supposed to join the club, but then flaked out on us.” then he shoved a cupcake into yeosang’s hands, with a shameless lie of -- “i made them myself!”

so wooyoung was still salty. no surprise there, really. 

yeosang’s gaze flicked back to mingi, bowing his head toward him slightly. “nice to meet you.” 

“speaking of the club,” yunho began, meeting mingi’s incredulous gaze across the circle. he had --buttercream?-- frosting on the tip of his nose. “mingi might be coming with us today for that trial run.”

wooyoung turned to mingi, all of his previous annoyance quickly replaced by excitement. “really?”

mingi glared at yunho. he wasn’t going to say anything, in case he decided he wasn’t going to go -- to not get their hopes up. “i  _ might  _ be,” he stressed. “i don’t know yet. i haven’t decided.”

wooyoung latched onto him again, forming his best puppy eyes. “please come minnie? it was so  _ boring  _ yesterday without you -- san and yunho are the worst!” 

san leaned around mingi to pout at wooyoung. “i would take personal offense to that if i didn’t know you were just trying to convince him to go.” his eyes landed on mingi, and he pulled a wooyoung and latched himself to mingi’s other arm. “please come to the club, min-min! wooyoung and yunho are the worst!” 

mingi shook his arm in a poor attempt to shake them off. when he failed, his glare fell back onto a smirking yunho. “i hate you. i  _ despise  _ you, jeong yunho.”

yunho leaned back on one hand, casually grabbing another cupcake out of the bin with the other. “nah, you love me.” 

“no. i’m fairly certain what i’m feeling right now is an extreme loathing.” 

yeosang just laughed, somewhere off to the side while his soulmate screeched in mingi’s ear.

at the end of the day, mingi found himself being dragged toward the environmental club’s clubroom, wooyoung pulling on his hands and san pushing him from behind. yeosang and yunho were trailing behind them, making idle chitchat as mingi was practically being manhandled.

he had yet to actually agree to a trial run. but “maybe” in woosanese was apparently “of course!” because he was still being ushered in the direction of the environmental club. in the direction of his soulmates. 

it wasn’t necessarily how he envisioned the whole thing going. he thought maybe --  _ maybe  _ if he agreed, they’d hold his hands and calmly walk with him to the club room, making sure he wasn’t too uncomfortable and reassuring him that he could leave if he really needed to. 

his protests fell upon deaf ears as they wandered closer and closer to the club room, wooyoung and san refusing to take “no” for an answer. in the grand scheme of things, mingi knew it was good they were trying to push him out of his comfort zone. they wanted him to grow and be able to actually function properly around new people.  _ he  _ wanted it as well. but did he have to grow in the same club as his soulmates? 

and finally, wooyoung pulled mingi to a stop in front of an open door and turned to him with a wide grin. “here we are, min!”

mingi let out a resigned sigh, his gaze reluctantly passing above wooyoung’s head and peering into the room. 

his eyes met blue’s --  _ again--  _ and he immediately froze. 

the smile that appeared on blue’s lips made mingi stumble. 

and his words -- “hey! glad you decided to come!”

mingi wanted to hide away forever and die. 

“we dragged him here,” wooyoung corrected. he looked almost smug about it. mingi thought his neck deserved a good throttle. 

red appeared in mingi’s view, frowning and eyebrows upturned in -- concern? disappointment? “i told you not to force him,” red chided. “it was supposed to be up to him.”

wooyoung shrugged. “he could have escaped if he wanted to.”

and, yeah, maybe he could have. so why didn’t he?

red let out a sigh, stepping aside so san, wooyoung, and yeosang could get past him. mingi somewhat registered them greeting another boy already in the room, but he had trouble focusing on anything but blue and red. 

yunho stepped up beside him, latching a hand around mingi’s wrist and rubbing a circle into mingi’s skin with his thumb. 

mingi didn’t know what he would do without yunho. 

_ he wouldn’t even be here -- in the club room -- in the first place.  _

minor details. 

then red stepped forward, leveling his softened gaze on mingi and pairing it with a kind, open smile. “anyway, we’re glad you could join us, mingi-ssi. i don't know if anyone told you, but we’re just making posters today, so hopefully, it’s not too… uncomfortable for you.” 

mingi gaped at him for a moment before he realized he should probably respond like a normal human being. “uh -- thank you. for… welcoming… me?”

apparently, mingi’s brain ceased to function around  _ both  _ of his soulmates. 

yunho laughed a bit beside him (earning a sharp elbow to the ribs), but blue and red simply smiled at him. 

mingi was then guided to the circular table in the center of the room, where the other four were already seated. a stack of recycled paper sat in the middle beside a tin can of markers, a variety of colors and lengths and thicknesses. yunho had mingi sit between him and wooyoung, and blue and red filled in the remaining empty seats. they were charged with the task of making  _ reduce, reuse, recycle  _ posters, and everyone set to work, making idle small talk. 

mingi was careful not to get any marker on his hands as he wrote, and checked over his skin every few minutes to make sure any stray marks from blue or red weren’t visible. he looked up at everyone else’s posters when his first was finished, each vastly different from the last. they were all so creative and vibrant. 

and red’s, red’s was  _ amazing _ . 

mingi had known red was an artist. it was blatant in the flowers on his arms and the new piece of work on his thigh every morning. but seeing him work in person… seeing the process and the way he could make an image so beautiful with shitty crayola markers --

mingi looked down at his own poster, a few simple words written down in dark green and a simple triangle made of arrows, and frowned. 

his next poster, whether inspired by red’s passion or not, was much more colorful, and far more creative. 

it wasn’t red-level astounding, but still -- mingi was slightly proud of himself with the way it turned out. 

the other kid -- jongho, maybe? he was a first-year -- spoke up maybe thirty minutes into the designated club hours. “where will we be hanging these up at?”

red looked up from his third poster, so vastly different from the first and second and yet equally as remarkable as the others. “just around the school, wherever there’s an open space. we’ll probably make a few more tomorrow and then split up into teams of two to hang them up. sound good to everyone?”

there were nods and agreements thrown out from around the table, minus mingi.  _ teams of two…  _ did that mean they were expecting mingi back tomorrow, to make the number of people even, or was he just reading too much into it? 

when they went to leave, around twenty posters finished and ready to hang up the following day, red caught mingi before he could make his escape. 

the others (minus blue, who was still organizing the table) left the room, but yunho stayed back with mingi. 

one thing mingi had noticed about red during their brief encounters was that he was very inviting. he was very friendly and open and -- according to both his own observations and what yunho had told him -- very mindful of other people’s feelings. everything would have been easier if mingi’s soulmates were horrible people, but alas. 

mingi’s eyes flickered down to red’s hands, which were holding onto the green folder containing their posters. each of his fingers on his right hand, right beneath the bottom  curve of his nail, had a small smiley face, courtesy of blue. when mingi noticed earlier, he’d been quick to hide that hand away, a swarm of panic building inside him. 

he was still panicking, and his heart rate only increased when red pulled him aside. 

“it was really nice to meet you, mingi-ah,” red told him. the smile on his lips told mingi it was a genuine statement. “I hope you’ll be back again tomorrow, but if you’re not up to it, i understand. we’ll never turn you away, though, even if you come back three months from now and decide you want to join the club.” 

red laughed, lightheartedly, but mingi couldn’t muster up the strength for even a smile. 

he couldn’t relax until he was out of that room, away from blue and red. his hands were tucked away in his pockets, but he couldn’t escape the irrational fear that red could somehow see through him -- could see that mingi was hiding something -- could see that they were soulmates -- and decided to do nothing about it. 

_ god _ , mingi need a nap. 

mingi managed a small “thank you,” but that was all he could utter. 

red seemed to understand and bid him and yunho a farewell, before turning to help blue finish cleaning up. 

yunho grabbed mingi’s elbow as they left. once out of sight, mingi pulled a hand from his pocket and intertwined his fingers with yunho’s, clinging tight to the comforting contact he’d been desperately needing. 

they were down a floor and nearly out the empty building when yunho pulled mingi to a halt, turning mingi to face him with his hands planted firmly on mingi’s shoulders. he looked mingi in the eyes, a familiar determination in his gaze. “i’m proud of you, mingi.”

mingi finally smiled, then, albeit small. “for what?”

“for coming to the club with us. I know how difficult it was for you, and i’m really proud of you for pushing past your fears to join us.” 

mingi scoffed and looked down at his hands, running the pad of his thumb over the smileys. “i was dragged there against my will.”

“but you still went,” yunho pushed. “and i’m really proud of you for that.”

mingi’s chest swelled. he didn’t know if it was that bubble of anxiety finally getting ready to burst after being poked and prodded at all day, or if he was just being overly emotional because he really didn’t deserve a jeong yunho in his life. 

his voice came out in a whisper. “thank you, yunho.”

yunho smiled at him, soft and adoring. “of course.”

and then he hugged him. the stress that had been building up all day slowly started to lift from mingi’s shoulders, and he sank into the embrace. 

really, what would he do without yunho?

if a thing like “platonic soulmates” existed, mingi thought yunho would have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm definitely self-projecting onto mingi at this point, but we're both leos so it's okay :)))


End file.
